Fleur de Lys
by lapsi
Summary: Contrary to what everyone thought, the rose was not Tamaki's favorite flower. Oneshot, Tamaki spective, no angst, just sweet sweet Tamaki and all his beauty.


**Fleur**** de Lys**  
_a fanfic_

Contrary to what everyone thought, the rose was not Tamaki's favorite flower. It made him a little sad, knowing this. He would have liked someone to bring it up in an idle conversation. He wanted to share his favorite flower with everyone, although everyone knew the flower. Still, his favorite flower was special, and wasn't it important to share special things? People always assumed his favorite was the rose though, because, said Haruhi, who threw things around in a charismatic gesture when they didn't like them? Not _throwing_, Tamaki corrected, upset. A gentleman never throws. You always throw, Haruhi contradicted, but stopped there because he looked ready to retreat into a corner, devastated at being misunderstood by his precious daughter.

It wasn't that he didn't like the rose, Tamaki liked them very much. They were romantic and extremely dramatic, and it amplified his naturally handsome charm by twice the glamour. He could see why everyone thought it was his favorite.

But it wasn't. Instead, it was the _Lys_. Lilies, they were called, but they just sounded so much better in French. Sometimes he said it quietly to himself, _Lys_, _Lys_, when he was alone and under the blanket with cute, cuddly Kuma on a rainy day. It wasn't quite the same, though; there wasn't the same richness, the softness, the eloquence of when his mother said it.

"_Lys_, Tamaki," she'd say, the latter the most Japanese she could make it sound and, Tamaki admitted, a little funny. But the French was perfect and so wonderfully sweet. "It stands for majesty, innocence, and purity." He nodded at her, five years old and only just introduced to the world of flowers, but taking everything she said solemnly to the heart.

There were always _lys_ at his house in France. They were hand-arranged and sometimes even hand-picked by his mother in lovely crystal vases that reflected the sunlight like a thousand rainbows. The flowers' aroma drifted sweetly throughout the house, and that was when Tamaki began to find peace and comfort in the scents of flowers. Which explained why he always had a rose to his nose, he guessed. At some point in his life, what stood for the _lys_ had suddenly become a sort of a motto for his life; be as majestic as a gentleman could be, be innocent and honest no matter what, and find pure joy in everything. These were the rules he lived by, and the ones his mother also respected.

"_Ma fleur de lys_," his mother sometimes called him. Her flower of the lily. In return he sometimes called her the _Lys_. The Lily. She the lily, he her child.

He missed the _lys_, he realized, spinning the single rose idly in between his long elegant fingers. So very very much. The _Lys_ and the _lys_. There were lilies at his mansion here, but they weren't quite the same as the ones he had had in France. His mother's dedication, her special love was missing. The maids only bought and trimmed them here, all done with skilled, practiced speed for display. They made the place pretty, sure, but there wasn't the same light. There were memories in the _lys_. His mother's and his, and they were back in France with her.

But maybe he should get some lilies for the host club, try his hand at prettying them like his mother did. It might not be the same, but it would be something. It'd be nice to see flowers other than roses, too. He was sure Haruhi was beginning to get allergic to them, anyway. She kept dodging and rejecting the roses when he offered. Yes, lilies, in the music room. _Lys_ for everyone. Haruhi would like it, Kyouya would like it, the twins, Hani-senpai, Mori-senpai, and all of their wonderful customers would like it. And while doing that, maybe someone would ask him about it. Ask him about his favorite flower.

He was so busy in his plans for _lys_-ing up the music room, that he didn't even notice his proclaimed daughter approaching him.

"Kyouya-senpai says you should stop daydreaming and help get prepared for this week's event. As it was your idea. I brought you some tea." Haruhi placed the teacup and saucer lightly on the table. Tamaki thanked her, lavishly. He made to hug her, but she sidestepped easily out of the way and instead sat down beside him on the sofa. He was still twirling the rose in his hand.

"Tamaki-senpai," she asked in sudden curiosity. "What's your favorite flower?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **It was so much fun writing this! Tamaki is truly one of the most positive and beautiful characters ever. The idea for this fanfic started from an oekaki I did. Which, if you're curious, you can find here: http / www . deviantart . com / deviation / 58755991 / but you need to get rid of the spaces.

Thanks for reading, as always.


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